“Life must be understood backward. But it must be lived forward” – Søren Kierkegaard
When I woke I was dead. The bed was still cold,
with death’s malodorous stench infesting my clothes.
The next thing I know my eyes flicker open
blinded by copious sun rays fighting to close them.
I lie there immobilised, but sure I’m alive
lifeblood coursing my wiry frame as rigormortis subsides.
The tautness of my skin turns from black to softened grey
having had foregone a change from its taphonomic state.
My fragile body aches with every beat of my heart
feeling it’s cardiac arrhythmia as my breathing restarts.
I see the apartment’s almost as blank as my stare.
The cotton-thermal blanket I’m wearing’s the same used in palliative care.
Death’s scent hangs in the air but my bodily functions return
and I’m as stunned as the nursing staff who discover me first.
Within months I’m in perfect health, as fit as a fiddle,
I’d put on a bit in the middle but do excuse me for living a little.
I filled in official paperwork requesting for some aid
that’s the benefit of making it to pensionable age.
Eventually I came to find a means of employment
once the creak in my joints dissipated, I really enjoyed it!
I’d keep to appointments with medical specialists
checking my records in case ever anything went amiss.
Health professional check-ups instruct me I’m fighting fit
so I push on in my position til I’m young enough for retirement.
I come to my final shift as I’m nearing my twenties
cue years of me heavy drinking, and beer by the plenty.
We’re here for a very short time, I’ve no regrets when my times through
from bending all life’s rules until I’m ready for high school.
Adolescence is kind to me, a chance to let off some steam
and not have to be bothered seeming to act so responsibly.
I’d gladly forgot my teenage years, I never smiled once
but faired better while undertaking my second child hood.
When the time comes to be reborn on the spot
and I’m warbling lots, i’ll know my life’s crawled to a stop.
I’m looking forward to lodging in a secluded retreat
in a room with my feet up, and nothing to do but just sleep.
In truth you and me live vastly different lives
on a raft of things besides the simple fact we live and die.
My path is intertwined with second chances at redemption
but with the caveat of never learning from what happens in the present.
In understanding that which tests us only makes us more determined
you’ll see failure is a learning curve that shapes you as a person.
Once you take away it’s purpose and the subsequential wisdom
then there’s nothing left permitting you to push or test your limits.
What good is there in living life through nothing that’s stressful?
It’s the struggles that test you which see us at our fullest potential.
I don’t judge the successfulness of another human being
by the sum of their achievements, but how they stood up to defeat.
Nothing’s ever easy, we’re all present’s of our pasts,
it’s only in retrospective that we can gauge the measure of a man...
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